Mother's Day Contest

My mom asked me to enter a Mother's Day Essay contest so she could win a massage.
On the day of the deadline, somewhere between emails and phone calls, I snuck in a little time at work to dash off a few words. I don't think it's a marvel of modern literature. But, through some miracle I won. And Mom won.

So, here is that essay:

"Some women are born great mothers. They seem to pop out of the womb with an apron around their waist, freshly baked cookies in their hands and a yen to nurture in their hearts. Other women learn to be great mothers. My Mom is in the latter category.

Mom doesn’t bake. She uses her oven for storage. Really. She may not resemble the idyllic Donna Reed Mom archetype, but Mom is an astounding woman and an amazing mother.

My Mom wasn’t built to be a soccer Mom. Her own mother died when she was only 10. (And from what I hear, was not exactly peach before she passed.) From then on, she was shipped and shuffled to boarding schools and reformatories. When she came home, she was a guest. So, her exposure to positive parental role models was limited.

Though unfashionable at the time, she didn’t fantasize about 3.5 kids and a suburban tract home. She wanted a career. And she got it. She worked her way up and was the first female VP in her corporation (in the 1970s when such a thing was rare). She left that position to start her own company and has been the President of that empire ever since. She’s been on TV, written books and spoken at podiums in front of thousands of people.

And somewhere in that mix, after 8 years of marriage, my father talked her into having a baby. And because life is funny this way, as soon as I was born, they divorced
So, she not only became a mother, she became a single mother. With a full-time job. And absolutely no idea what she was doing.

But, she learned quickly.

She apologizes now for the long hours working and for not being able to give me all of the things my affluent friends had. But, I don’t remember any of that. All I remember is that she always tucked me in at night. She always read me to sleep. She always made me feel safe and happy and loved. And that’s all the stuff that really matters anyway.

Although being affectionate is wonderful, the greatest gifts my Mom ever gave to me are her strength and humor. I call my Mom the Iron Pixie. She’s warm and giggly and fun, but don’t let that fool you. When push comes to shove, Mom is downright unsinkable. She has taught me what it means to stand up, survive, overcome and find the gift, the gratitude and the funny part in it all.

When I was 10 years old and Mom was my whole Universe, we got some news. Mom was diagnosed with bladder cancer and given a 2% chance of survival.

Time stood still. I remember barely choking out the words, “Are you going to die?” And Mom grabbed my chin, looked straight into my eyes and said, “Absolutely not. Nothing, I mean NOTHING is going to take me away from you.”

And she meant it. That year was a big year. She quit her fancy job. She started eating a bland, but cancer-fighting macrobiotic diet. She painted my room pink with me. BIG things.

And then she beat cancer.

And 15 years after that, cancer popped up somewhere else and she beat it AGAIN.

And that’s how Mom is. She may face challenges, but she is never defeated.

Mom manages to handle scary things with a light touch. She doesn’t get bleak or despondent. I think at her glummest moment in cancer #2 she said, “You know, honey, sometimes these cancers really piss me off.” And that was it. Otherwise, she saw the hospital as a great time to catch up on sleep, see old friends and get up to date with all the trashy celebrity mags.

Unsinkable.

Great mothers come in a lot of packages. Some drive minivans and cook like Martha Stewart. That’s not my Mom. Mom didn’t teach me to knit. But, she has taught me what it means to have an inconquerable spirit, to be bigger than your circumstances and how to keep the world funny side up.

For all she is and all she’s done, please massage this lady!"